By Degrees (12 page)

“What?
 
You thought I was going to show you the money?” he asks, chuckling at his own joke.

“Yeah, right.”
 
I play it off, grabbing the bag from his hand.
 
“Go eat, would ya?
 
You’re too skinny.”

He runs his hands from his chest down to his abs, watching them go down.
 
He looks over at me when he’s got his hands on his pelvis.
 
“What?
 
You don’t go for the emaciated rocker look?”

I shake my head.
 
“No. I go for the healthy artist look, personally. But I guess since you got Jelly knocked up, it doesn’t matter what I like, right?”

I want to slap my own face for saying it. I don’t know what possessed me to take the fun we were having and throw it into the shredder like that.
 
Maybe he was getting too close, or maybe I was getting too close to him.
 
Either way, I did it and I don’t want to take it back.
 
I cannot afford to let anything happen between us, and neither can he, whether he knows it or not.

His face drops.
 
As he walks away, his head hanging low, I hear his mumbled reaction.
 
“Fuck you.”

Hearing it brings the sensation of being stabbed in the heart with a very sharp and painful weapon.

Chapter Eleven

DURING DINNER I GATHER TARIN’S inner circle around me, now focused on talking strategy.
 
Scott’s at my right taking notes.
 
There are nine friends at the table with Scott and I making eleven.
 
Jelly’s in the house being tended to by a housekeeper of sorts.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with us to discuss our plans for the next thirty days.” Almost everyone nods, but not Tarin.
 
He’s looking a little too shell-shocked to be able to contribute much.
 
I don’t mind; it’s the people who care about him who will be the most help to us right now.

“First of all, I just want to give you a quick overview of what we’re doing.
 
Number one is healthy living.
 
Tarin’s going to be on a strict diet and exercise program.
 
Any of you are welcome to join us, and some of you I will expect to be there.” I look at the bodyguards.
 
“Zach and Leonard, you two need to be involved since some of this stuff will be happening in public and Tarin will need security.”

“Count us in,” says Zach.
 
“We exercise everyday anyway.”

I nod, silently thanking them for their enthusiasm.

“Count me in too,” says Ricky.
 
“I need to get in shape.”
 
He looks down at the giant piece of cake in front of him and puts a big bite onto a fork.
 
“Might as well enjoy it while I can.”
 
Winking as he puts it into his mouth, he gets the table laughing at his good-natured joking.
 
I’m happy for the levity.

“Good.
 
Anyone else?”

The band manager gives me an uncomfortable look.
 
“Actually, not that I want to bail on this whole deal, but I had a big vacation planned starting next week.
 
And I was going to work in some meetings while I’m out of town, too, so I wasn’t planning to be back for almost three weeks.”

Stick nods.
 
“Yeah, with the tour coming up, we were all going to take off.”
 
He looks over at Dave and Randy, and all three of them are nodding like bobble head dolls.

Scott and I exchange a look before I turn my attention back to the table.
 
“It’s no big deal, actually.
 
As long as I have security and a driver, we can take care of the rest.”

“We’re all in, so it’s good, right?” asks Ricky.
 
He’s still enjoying his cake, but it’s almost all gone.
 
He looks at Zach and Leonard.
 
“Security and a driver.”
 
He nods at me.

“Yep, we’re good.
 
The rest of you enjoy your time off and when you come back, Tarin will be almost where he needs to be.”

“Chicken shits,” Tarin says in a low tone.

Everyone ignores him, but I can tell from their expressions he’s made them uncomfortable.

“Now’s your chance to give me some insight into Tarin’s life.
 
Into his psyche.
 
We’ll use the information to help put together a gameplan.”

Tarin glares at everyone, and I laugh.

“Don’t let him intimidate you.
 
He’ll eventually realize you’re doing it to help him, not hurt him.”

“Well, maybe you can have him leave the table, then, because I don’t particularly want to get punched in the face,” says Dave.

Randy nods silently.

“No, I think it’s better that he hear it coming from the people he cares about.”

“Fuck that,” says Tarin, trying to stand.

I grab his arm and squeeze it.
 
“Stay.
 
I want you to hear this.”

He looks down at me, glaring at me.
 
I refuse to be intimidated by it.
 
“I insist.
 
Take a seat.”

Letting out an annoyed sigh, he flops back down into his chair, slumping back and lowering himself down.
 
“Fine.
 
Hit me with your best shot.”
 
He looks out over the back lawn like he could care less about what’s about to be said.

“Who will go first?
 
Give me some insight into Tarin as a person.”
 
I scan the faces at the table, waiting expectantly.

No one says anything.
 
This is normal.
 
It doesn’t dissuade me in the least.

“Okay, I’ll start,” I say. “I’ve noticed that Tarin has a great sense of humor.
 
He likes to tease.”
 
I smile at his friends.
 
“How’s that?
 
Did I get him right?”

Everyone nods, a few of them smiling.
 
“Yeah, that’s about right,” says Randy.
 
“He likes to play practical jokes on people, especially the crew.”
 
He pauses, some of his smile slipping.
 
“Some of them quit over it, actually.”

“So what you’re saying is that sometimes his jokes have
 
sharp edges to them, is that it?”

Randy doesn’t want to respond, but eventually his head wins out over his heart.
 
“Yeah. Sometimes.”

A long hiss comes from Tarin, but he’s still staring out into the distance.

“He doesn’t realize it, though,” says Randy, trying to do damage control.
 
“He just gets wound up and gets carried away sometimes.”

I look at Stick.
 
“What do you think?
 
Do you find Tarin getting too wound up sometimes?”

He sticks his lips out like he’s thinking or doubtful.
 
Then he shrugs.
 
“Maybe.
 
I mean, he’s an intense guy.
 
I guess … I get the impression he’s a little tortured, you know?
 
Like the jokes are a form of self-therapy.”

Tarin whips his head around and glares at Stick.
 
“What the fuck, man?”

Stick is angry now too.
 
“What?
 
Are you saying it ain’t true?
 
Because you’re a fucking liar if you do.
 
Come on, asshole, don’t make this harder than it has to be on everyone else.
 
We didn’t do anything wrong.”

I shake my head.
 
“You let it get this far, though, didn’t you?”

Stick stands up.
 
“Listen, whatever your name is … sorry, I already forgot it … I get what you’re trying to do here, but I’m not going to sit here and take the blame for Tarin’s shit, okay?
 
The guy’s a fuck-up.
 
He doesn’t show up for practice, he’s forgetting lyrics at shows now, and he’s got terrible taste in women.
 
None of that is on me.
 
None of it.”
 
He throws his napkin down on his plate.
 
“I have a plane to catch in the morning, so I’m outta here.
 
Good luck with everything.
 
I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
 
He leaves the table after bumping fists with Randy and Dave.
 
No one else even gets a second look, not even Tarin.

I chance a look at my client and he’s just sitting in his chair stunned.
 
Now’s my chance.

“Okay, that was some good stuff. Honesty.
 
That’s what Tarin needs right now.
 
Who’s next?”

“He doesn’t write anymore,” says Randy.
 
“All the new stuff we’re getting is coming from Stick.”
 
He lowers he voice and his head to finish.
 
“And no offense to Stick, but it’s not half as good as Tarin’s stuff was.”

“I wrote something two weeks ago, what the fuck are you talking about?” Tarin’s trying to defend himself, but it loses some of its force with his weak delivery.

“First of all that was like two months ago, not weeks … and to be honest, it sucked balls.
 
We’re not including it in the next album.”

“Fuck you, we’re not.”

“No, dude, we’re not. Seriously. We took a vote, but you weren’t there of course, so that’s why you don’t know about it.”

“Yeah.
 
He doesn’t come to our sessions anymore,” says Dave, sounding sad.
 
“He’s too busy partying.”

Tarin grips the arms of his chair and leans over, practically spitting in his friend’s face when he responds.
 
“You’re one to talk about partying, you fucking H fiend.
 
You’re the one I’ve been partying with!
 
How can you stand there and tell me I’m too busy partying?
 
Fucking hypocrite.”

Dave stands up, looking both frustrated and guilty as hell.
 
“Whatever, man.
 
I’m just doing what she asked.”
 
He gestures at me with his fork before dropping it on his plate.
 
“I’ve got my issues, yeah.
 
Okay, I admit that.
 
I’m going to deal with that too.
 
But this was about you, and you might not want to hear it, but I love you, man.
 
You’re like a brother to me, and watching you throw your whole life away is killing me.
 
It’s half the reason I try to escape all the time.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” says Tarin, his voice going snotty.
 
“Now I’m to blame for you being a fucking user.
 
Nice.”

Dave looks at me.
 
“I think I’m going to schedule a stay at a clinic.
 
I appreciate what you’re doing here, but I don’t think I can stick around and try to participate on the side.
 
Sorry.”
 
He turns to leave.

“Good luck, Dave,” I say, sincerely hoping by clinic he means a rehab place.

“You love me but you’re fucking running away!” yells Tarin at his back.
 
“Nice!
 
With family like that, who needs enemies!”

Dave flinches but he doesn’t respond or turn around.
 
He disappears into the house through the terrace doors.

“That’s not nice, Tarin,” says Mel.
 
“You really need to think about what you’re saying before you let it out.
 
Some things you can’t take back.”

“There’s only one thing I’ve ever said or done that I wish I could take back, Mel, and that ain’t it.”
 
Tarin gets unsteadily to his feet.
 
“I’m going to bed.
 
Ricky, take me home.”

Ricky looks to me for my input.

“Don’t look at her!
 
Look at me!
 
I pay your paycheck.”
 
Tarin shoves his chair back so hard it flips over backwards and lands against a fountain behind him.

“Not right now, you don’t,” I say.
 
“Right now, I run the payroll. But I’m fine with him taking you home to sleep off whatever it is you took.”
 
I stand too and look at Tarin’s bodyguards.
 
“Will you please go and make sure he doesn’t take anything else?
 
Tomorrow’s going to be enough of a shock as it is.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing right here next to you,” says Tarin.
 
He’s breathing like a bull, huffing and puffing with his anger.

I face him, taking in his rage and hurt expression.
 
“Okay, fine.
 
Tarin, you need to go home and sleep off your high.
 
Zach and Leonard will go with you and watch over you to make sure you don’t get into any more trouble until tomorrow when I move in.
 
Ricky will drive you home and nowhere else.
 
Jelly will not be going with you.
 
Tonight, you sleep alone and without the aid of medication.”

“Move in?”

I smile.
 
Of all the things I’ve said, that’s the one he’s clued in on.
 
He looks afraid.
 
“Yes. Scott and I will be moving in to your house.
 
We’ll be with you twenty-four/seven with around-the-clock supervision.”

“Sounds like prison.”

“It won’t be. I promise.
 
Just consider us like boundaries.”

“Boundaries.
 
What the fuck.”
 
Tarin turns around.
 
Halfway to the door, he turns back.
 
“Well come on, fuckers!
 
If you’re gonna babysit my ass, might as well get moving away from the goddamn cake.”